


Meeting People

by Masu_Trout



Category: Deus Ex (Video Games)
Genre: Fake-Out Make-Out, M/M, Missions, Undercover as a Bodyguard, Undercover as a Couple, Uneasy Allies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 22:46:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17517251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masu_Trout/pseuds/Masu_Trout
Summary: A chance encounter during a mission throws all Adam's plans out the window, leaving him with no choice but to get reacquainted—and then some—with the one man he hoped he'd never have to deal with again.





	Meeting People

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DreadlordTally](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreadlordTally/gifts).



> "You know, I gotta tell you, meeting people is the best part of my job. And you _obviously_ want to get to know me better—"

Even two closed doors and a corridor away, the Charles University Charity Banquet was a wall of noise. Adam blocked it out as he crept slowly through a back room, ducking past a camera and letting the plush carpet and his silencer augs muffle the sound of his footsteps. 

The event was somewhere between a business networking event and a full-out party: funded by politicians and attended by students, businesspeople, government officials, and Dvali associates alike, it pulled the best and the worst of the city together into one single mass of easy conversation and cheap drinks. His augmentations meant that he couldn't quite pass without notice, even here, but enough people assumed he was someone else's hired muscle that he'd been able to slip through the main floors without attracting more than stares and whispers.

If he were caught here, though, he'd have no such luck.

Still. The reward was worth the risk. Security had been tightened for this banquet, but the guards were spread thin by thousands of people—drunk already and only getting drunker—who filled the main hall. If Adam wanted to take a look at the files Drachovský kept in his office here, there would never be a better time than tonight. 

It was almost strange, running this operation alone; he’d gotten far-too-used to having Pritchard or Vega or one of TF29’s support operatives in his ear. But Karel Drachovský, Adam's target for the night, was a faculty member and former small-time corrupt Prague politician. And, assuming the woman who’d asked so desperately for Adam’s help was right, he was using his old connections to reroute legitimate neuropozyne shipments away from Golem City and into the hands of local black market operatives.

If it didn’t involve ARC, TF29 wasn’t interested. If it didn’t involve the Illuminati, the Collective wasn’t interested. So Adam was a one-man operation tonight, and that meant that there were blind spots in his knowledge.

Adam froze, ducking into an alcove, as the sound of footsteps suddenly cut in the next room over. They were fast, purposeful, the gait of someone who was looking for something—and the only _something_ someone could be looking for here was him.

But he was out of view of the cameras, and this alcove would be a good place to stash someone. Adam pulled his stun gun from its holster and braced himself as the dot that marked his pursuer drew closer and closer on the Wayfinder.

_Three, two—_

Adam dashed out from behind cover in a burst of golden-edged speed, pulling the trigger the second he’d locked on to the target. 

"Fuck!" snarled a voice, and a man in a tailored suit slammed himself back against the wall just in time to avoid the electric charge. 

With a quiet curse, Adam launched himself forward to close the last of the distance between them; another stun gun round, a fist to the face, it didn’t matter what he used so long as Adam dropped his opponent before he had a chance to sound an alarm.

The man’s fingers slipped into his waistband, coming back up with a gleaming pistol; Adam didn’t waste a second, just reached out and grabbed the barrel and _squeezed_ until he felt metal crumple in his palm. With his other hand he lashed out again, trying to land a solid blow, but his opponent had sense enough to let of of his gun the moment Adam grabbed it. He took a dancing step backwards, trying to retreat to a safer range— _Good luck,_ Adam thought, his fingers already sparking with the Tesla’s wild energy—and then both of them locked eyes.

Adam froze. The man standing across from him froze too.

 _Not plainclothes security, then,_ was Adam’s first thought. His second thought was, _Well, fuck_.

Breathing hard, sweat dripping down his forehead, the assassin Adam had met once before offered him a wild grin. "Oh, my favorite customer! Fancy seeing you here. How’s that disk been treating you?"

"What are you doing here?" Adam snapped.

"Enjoying the party, of course. Same as you." The assassin straightened up, smoothing down the lapels of his suit. "Now, if you’ll excuse me—"

Adam grabbed Walker’s wrist before he could try to flee. "Yeah, I don’t think so."

Walker scowled, looking more put out than afraid. "Oh, please, don’t be overdramatic. You’re the one who attacked me here."

"And last time we met, you had a man strapped to a bomb and you were trying to kill me. Forgive me if I’m not feeling lenient."

"Did it go off? Did anyone die? _No_." He sounded genuinely disappointed. "So forgive _me_ if I’m not feeling especially remorseful." With a wave of his free hand, the one not trapped in Adam’s grip, he gestured at the hallway around them. Arched windows, guarded by wrought-iron bars—and, more subtly, shatterproof glass wired to a silent alarm—looked out onto a private garden and, beyond it, the Vltava and the arch of the Palisade Blades. "Can’t a man want to admire the scenery a little bit?" 

The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile as he spoke.

Walker fit right in at this banquet, Adam had to admit. He had that carefully-cultivated air of money, that easy belief in his own immortality—the fact that he was talking about setting explosives rather than investing in the latest tech barely even seemed to register, with how casually he said it. Adam didn’t know whether that was down to his talent for undercover work or just the man’s natural personality.

He could knock Walker out with a moment’s effort. But Adam hesitated; someone like Walker probably wouldn't work this sort of job alone.

"How about this," Adam said. "You tell me who you’re working for, and I let you walk away from this."

Or, at least, let him live. This alcove would be big enough to stash an unconscious body in. Adam had no intention of letting him send an alarm out to whoever he was working for tonight.

Walker shrugged. "Self-employed, actually. Real gig economy this days, you know? Everyone's gotta adapt. And—"

They both froze as the sound of footsteps echoed in the hall across from them. Walker swore under his breath, glancing desperately left and right; Adam was already wishing he could beat himself over the head for just how stupid he’d been.

Three dots in the corner of his radar, moving methodically and headed his way. Definitely guards this time. And he could hide himself—already he had his glass shield readied—but unarmed, unaugmented Walker wouldn’t escape their notice so easily. If someone was caught wandering these halls tonight, that would mean a lockdown of the entire floor. And, with it, the opportunity that Adam needed lost.

Walker spun to face him, wild-eyed, clearly making the same calculations as Adam, and hissed, "Look, don’t kill me, all right?"

"Wha—" Adam asked, and then Walker’s mouth was on his.

It was pure shock that kept him from shoving Walker away—shock, and the strangeness of having someone _touching_ him. Walker’s hands grabbed at Adam’s shoulder and the curve of his jaw, mussing the lines of Adam’s suit as he greedily pulled him closer. His lips were cracked and dry and warm, and his kissed Adam like he wanted him, opening his mouth to Adam’s as he ground their bodies together—

"Hey!" 

They broke apart as a voice rang out from down the hallway: Adam with his fingers still curled halfway to activating the Tesla, Walker out of breath and smiling giddily and looking the perfect image of a rich university student with a little too much champagne in him.

A trio security guards striding towards them. Adam froze, desperately planning out an escape—what the hell had he been thinkind, he should have never trusted Walker long enough even to talk to him—but they were walking, not running, and none of them had a gun out yet. No alarms had started wailing, and even with his Infolink active he couldn't even hear anything down on the subaudible frequencies the silent systems used.

"Officer!" Walker took a staggering step sideways, his fingers pulling away from Adam’s suitcoat as if he was having to remind himself how to move each digit. "I’m sorry, are we..?"

"You’re not allowed to be in this area," barked one of the guards, scowling. His hands hung loosely at his sides. (Not on the holster of his weapon, not reaching for a radio.)

"I’m _so_ sorry," Walker said. "It was getting so claustrophobic in there, and my bodyguard"—he leaned against Adam, a gesture just a touch too comfortable to be professional—"thought I ought to get some… air."

The way he drawled out _bodyguard_ , his smile widening slightly on the word, made it clear exactly what his so-called guard’s primary role actually was.

It wasn’t too late to stun them all, Adam reminded himself. From this angle, he could hit all four of them with the Tesla and probably come out of this with at least some of his dignity intact. But the guards weren’t staring at Adam’s augmentations or asking him for his papers. Hell, not a single one of them was even looking Adam’s way. 

Walker was the center of everyone’s attention right now. Or, rather, the idly rich young man—naive and far-too-friendly but fundamentally harmless, whose identity Walker had slipped on as comfortably as the tailored suit he wore—had captured everyone’s attention. Adam had gone from _immediate threat_ to _essentially invisible_ just by standing at his side. 

Adam couldn’t have thought up a better disguise for the two of them if he’d planned for days beforehand, and here Walker had conjured it up with barely a thought, pulled Adam into his cover as easily as breathing.

Everett had wanted Walker killed for being too imaginative. Adam had never wondered what exactly he'd meant by that before right now.

The security guard at the head of the pack pressed a hand briefly against his face. One of the guards behind him was straight-faced and stern; the other was badly trying to hold in a laugh. None of them looked suspicious of him or Walker at all.

"All right," the head guard sighed. "Look. If you need air, you get it _off_ university property, understand?" 

Walker nodded, overeager and sloppy, head lolling slightly.

"And you," he added, turning to Adam for the first time. "Keep your… boss out of trouble, okay?"

He glanced Adam up and down: seeing gold-tipped knuckles and and augmentations polished to gleam, Adam was sure, not the indentation in his scalp that marked a military-grade commlink or the the gaps in his wrist that gave a blade room to slide free. Only what he expected to see.

Adam gave him a curt nod. "Of course." 

He had to be flushed red right now. Hopefully that helped the disguise.

Before any of the guards could change their minds, Adam swung one of Walker’s arms over his shoulder and helped him properly upright. His poor, drunk employer clutched at him as they walked, hands occasionally wandering across his shoulders or brushing against his chest in a casually intimate gesture.

The guards herded them back towards the main hall, ushering them through a heavy set of double doors and back into the wall of color and sound and people that was the banquet. Walker didn’t let go of him even after the guards had turned away, instead guiding him past the worst of the crowd, past the to a set of chairs tucked against the wall of a room that looked out onto the central dance floor. It was somewhere between coat closet and just plain closet sizewise, and there wasn't actually a door they could close, but it at least gave them some small modicum of privacy. Between the angle and Adam's suit—plain black and nowhere near the elaborate tailoring of Walker's, it made him look like a waiter or cheap hired security—they blended into the background of the party.

Walker’s drunkenness disappeared between one moment and then next as he and Adam sat down. He leaned into Adam’s space, one hand still grabbing at Adam and a bright smile curling across his face, and said, "That went well, didn’t it?"

"Mm." 

Adam peeled Walker’s hand from his wrist, only for Walker to drop it to his thigh instead.

" _Oh,_ " Walker said, giving his leg an appreciative squeeze, "you did go for a full install, didn’t you?"

Adam stood up, shaking Walker’s hand off—but before he could slip back into the crowd, Walker was grabbing at his sleeve.

"Wait now, come on, don’t be so hasty. I was just thinking out loud. Bad habit."

"What do you _want_?" Adam growled.

Walker stood to match Adam, ducking his head to close the gap between them. From a distance, they’d look like lovers. From slightly closer, near enough that Adam’s augmentations became obvious, people would see the same thing the guards had seen: a wealthy man and his hired pet.

"Seeing as you’re here tonight? I have a feeling I want the same thing you do," Walker murmured into his ear.

"Right," Adam scoffed. "Somehow you don’t strike me as the charitable type."

"Charity?" Walker asked. "God no. You ask me, a charitable donation's a sign of a guilty conscience. But Drachovský has some ties to our, mhmm, _mutual friends_ , and I have a feeling he has some information I want."

That got Adam’s attention. Walker could be lying—but the CASIE, when Adam dove briefly into its interface, didn’t think he was, and if he was telling the truth it would explain some of the odd things that hadn’t matched up for Adam while he was researching Drachovský's history.

 _Fuck_ , he thought tiredly. If the Illuminati truly had a hand in this, then trying to topple Drachovský’s smuggling ring was going to be more difficult than he’d imagined.

Still—

There was no loyalty between the two of them. Just because Adam had once saved his life—if the warning he'd given even counted as saving him—didn’t mean Walker would do the same. No man racked up a body count like the one Walker had by being loyal. 

After their meeting, months ago, Adam had done some digging into Walker’s history; the things he’d found had left him wondering whether interfering in Everett’s plan to have his pet hitman taken out back had been the right thing to do. It was easy to forget, with Walker’s easy charisma, just what kind of things he was capable of. But Adam couldn’t afford a lapse of judgment.

"You expect me to believe that?" Adam asked. "I know men like you. You escaped a death sentence—you’d be off celebrating on a beach in Tahiti if you didn’t have a _very_ compelling reason to show up here tonight."

"Compelling reason, huh?" 

Walker laughed, quietly, and took a single step closer. His hands loosely circled Adam’s hips, his chin was tucked against Adam’s collar.

It felt strange to have someone so close. His instincts were screaming _danger_ , he knew this was nothing more than another layer of disguise, and yet—

"Truth is, I’m actually very vindictive," Walker said, his breath tickling Adam’s ear. "It’s my one personality flaw."

"And what, you expect me just to let you go?" Adam asked, pitching his voice to match Walker’s quiet whisper. "You're not the only one with plans here."

Walker’s hand brushed against Adam’s arm again. This time, there was nothing suggestive about it. It was a cold, businesslike sizing-up, one living weapon assessing another.

"I’ve heard of your reputation," he said. "I don’t want to have to go through you. But I’m going to get what I came here for tonight." 

"Easy to say. Might be harder than you expect to actually do, though."

"You underestimate me. And you misunderstand me." Walker pulled back just far enough to give Adam a gleaming, too-perfect smile. "Jensen. _Adam_. Work with me."

" _What?_ "

"Just for tonight. It doesn’t have to mean anything. But I’ve got information you’ll want to see… and, I mean, come on. Think about it. Wouldn’t you rather have me at your side, instead of your back?"

Only an idiot or a man with a death wish would take Walker up on his offer. Walker wasn’t doing this out of kindness—he was a scorpion, through and through. Adam was as much in danger from him as anyone else.

But somehow… 

He’d seen Walker around, after that night, in the basement of Svobody Beer. Walker undoubtedly knew where he lived; if an assassin of his caliber wanted Adam dead, he would’ve made an attempt already. 

Adam was sure of one thing, at least: Walker hadn’t planned for Adam's being here tonight, wasn’t a puppetmaster jerking Adam’s strings to pull him in the direction of some grand scheme. There was a paradoxical honesty to his manipulations—Adam knew exactly what Walker wanted out of him tonight, and he knew that he could say no. If he turned around and walked out the door right now, Walker wouldn’t be able to do a thing to stop him.

(If he did, he might very well wake up one morning to a frag mine in his doorway or a knife at his throat, but threats like that were Adam's normal by now.)

He could tell himself it was convenience, or protecting the plan. But he knew better.

"Fine, then," Adam said. "But we’re following my rules. No fatalities, no civilian casualties." 

"Ugh," Walker groaned. "You really know how to make a good night boring, don't you?" 

He was still smiling, though, and there something more than the disguise in his movements when he slipped an arm around Adam’s waist.

"Come on, then, _bodyguard_ "—and Adam was going to regret this, he knew he was—"let’s see what our friend Drachovský keeps in his private office."

Adam turned, moving to follow Walker’s touch, and together they slipped back into the crowd.


End file.
